An insight into my creative practice in the build up to the final degree show at Oxford Brookes University. Through the investigation of embroidery, I am attempting to capture notions of the sublime through domestic stitch using imagery from the cosmos. In this blog I will be discussing ideas and developments in relation to the degree show and my practice.
The ceiling was a nightmare. A wrongly measured, badly cut nightmare that took several students and several attempts to firstly, get it up on the structure to discover it was wrong, and secondly, try to twist it around due to me insisting that yes, itwould fit. Well, it didn’t. This conclusion was only reached by the end of the day however, when all our student-helpers had gone home, leaving me, spindle-armed with my not-so-spindle-armed boyfriend, to take the whole thing down ourselves with huge damage to the costly flexi-ply. I was quite grateful for my (by then) developed skills in wood-filler, meaning I could wood-fill the newly created huge, black split in the top of the wall.
Once re-cut, the ceiling did drop in, as it should, though this time we were wiser and erected it in two parts. I then spent the rest of the week (two weeks, I suppose) re-painting and refilling every flaw that there was at least six times. I used a lot of layers of paint on the structure, and about half as much on the inside, but am pleased to say that once the ceiling was repainted, wood-filled and sealed, the natural light spotlights were so effective that I never had to worry about artificial lighting (or the guts of a fridge-freezer) again.
The show is now up with everything done and dusted. The floor was vinyled in black with minimal bubbles or creases, and the curtain rail was put up with just one small error that was corrected. The velvety curtains were sewn together with welcome help from my sewing-machine wiz mother, and look fantastically thick and dark in contrast to the chalk white antechamber doorway. The studio floor was scratched, scraped and scrubbed by me and some friends, (to whom I am eternally grateful), and the embroideries were put up in a surprisingly successful fashion involving brass pins and picture hooks. They now hover away from the wall, tilted towards the light, catching it, reflecting it, and gleaming in the illusion of darkness that so resembles an observatory in an alien world.
The private view was a huge success, and a welcome one given the two weeks spent painting a wall mural (and tidying up the furry edges of the paint that bled underFrog Tape with specialised ‘paint block’ technology). I felt it worked pretty well, wrapping around the strange, igloo like structure, pinpointing the galaxies. I had fantastic feedback from all those who viewed the piece, which made it all the more worthwhile, and was thrilled to yesterday see one of my embroideries placed in a display cabinet at the Museum of the History of Science, here in Oxford. It’s there for the week, so go look at it, if you have a chance. And come to see the show, too. Not just to appreciate the blood, sweat and tears that went into the creation of the (now titled) Cosmos, but also to see the array of other works that are all fantastic, all well worth seeing, and that I enjoyed exploring as much as I enjoyed exploring the creation of mine. It’s on for the week (until Saturday the 12th!) so do go see it.
Check outhttp://www.brookesdegreeshow.com/ for a taster of what you’ll be missing out on if you don’t.
So why haven’t I blogged recently? I’ve been too busy swamped in the making and the doing that always becomes so intensive at this time of year. Testing my (and my boyfriend’s) limits, I’ve been splattering myself in paint, inhaling fumes and brass dust. I’ve also been scraping my hands raw on linen to stretch and pad embroideries on disks that now have no frames, spending too much on materials, ruining my jeans and scaring myself senseless with all that’s still left to do.
At least I am half (well, quarter-way through) my eleventh embroidery, with self-made floppy business cards because I was too principled to spend £30 on a printing ‘deal’ that was initially advertised as £2.99 (they add on the pounds in the details, the details!). The Structure as I call it, is now white with wood primer, awaiting a good sanding and fresh top few coats over Friday and this weekend. My sketchbook is grinding to a halt (my diary is my new best friend) and at some point I’ll have to self-evaluate prematurely before the real interesting stuff begins: the setting up of the degree show.
And oh my stars! There is so much that could go wrong. It all rides in the lighting, the display, the work – all of which I have yet to figure out and discover thanks to the sheer scale of the task. What if it’s dark by seven-thirty? What if it’s (and let’s face it, it probably will be) overcast and chucking it down? What then, when the skylight I am so reliant on is blanketed in dusk, or snow?
Spotlights, is probably the answer, but I don’t know how to work those. Or where to put them, or how much it will destroy the atmosphere when switched on. Not to mention that The Structure is already an oven-like experience, though perhaps that is just due to the exercise I’m getting whenever I lunge – up and down, side to side – to push enough paint into the super-absorbent flexi-ply. There are so many problems to which I keep coming up with wild solutions – yes, extra lighting might not seem so extreme, but the guts of a fridge-freezer system around the bottom of the wall to keep things cool? Please.
The ceiling is going to be made on Monday, which is when the ‘natural spotlights’ will be cut, which is when it could all go horribly wrong. But who knows? Maybe the embroideries will look fascinating in dim, half-light. I’ll have to camp out in my small oven-structure with a sleeping bag and sandwich to see how long it takes to get too dark to see anything at all.
I have not posted for a few days. This is not negligence, but is due to a busy working week that has involved extensive scrubbing with a wire brush and bleach as well as the ambitious positioning of the work in its final resting place.
There has been so much to think about, mostly little things that will probably be a huge problem later on if they are not resolved now. Firstly the floor needed cleaning which, with help, I did; but then today I realised that I had not cleared enough, and therefore not cleaned enough floor space, so I had to get back on my hands and knees and start spreading my puddle of cleanliness outwards. Even though it is far from clean. It is just decent. Have you ever tried getting ingrained grime out of twelve artists’ workspaces? It’s not easy. Secondly: the skylight. It has some rather annoying (and messy) looking blinds that I must remove – but how? The structure is now up, and the only way to do this would be to get a ladder slap bang in the middle of it before the ceiling goes on. That is if the blinds can be removed. According to some it has never been attempted before.
I do feel guilty for infringing on so much of my colleagues workspaces even though they have told me it is perfectly all right. The structure is further away from the wall than initially planned, but that is due to the inner circle needing to sit flush with the edge of the skylight. I quite like it’s odd positioning, plus it also means the third studio wall is cleared completely for someone else to work into it.
It was not easy to set the circle up – the antechamber was the least problematic to erect and the springy timbers produced unforeseen issues. With the help of an expert however, it was soon all sorted, and is now awaiting the flexi-ply (which will be sorted sometime next week). First I have to figure out how to make frames for the embroideries that will work not only in the piece itself, but also solo and on display in other environments.
That is Monday’s task. And then, who knows? I’m very eager to get the whole thing painted – or at least the antechamber so I can start work in it. Next week is our last week before the Easter holidays, which is horrible. There’s still so much to do and so little time to do it in.
With the rest of the flexi-ply prepared and ready to be put on the final structure, tomorrow I am all set with bleach and wire brushes to scrub clean the studio floor. This is because once the structure is up it will be too heavy to be moved, and so everything has to be pre-prepared for Friday which is when the antechamber, and hopefully the main room, will be erected.
In the meantime I have been working on my tenth embroidery – the silicate crust of Io, one of the innermost of the four Galilean moons of Jupiter. Io jumped out to grasp my attention due to its sickly (of course, colour enhanced) surface, pitted with large spots and pimples that have a range of patterns and complexity. Io’s several volcanoes produce plumes of sulphur and sulphur dioxide, which is quite possibly the cause of Io’s colouring – colouring that looks as if it really might smell.
I have great plans for this embroidery, depending upon how it turns out. My next focus will most likely also be a moon – so far their surfaces have been the most interesting to me, but having embroidered two galaxies, their complex pull is also tempting. I have not yet felt the urge to explore star nurseries, as it is the lure of other worlds that is captivating my interest, not worlds that will be, or worlds that were.
Once the antechamber is up and painted (along with everything else) I will then have to tackle the task of how to frame the embroideries. I have a good idea of stretching and presentation, but this is going to be difficult to see through into reality. I am in week 8 of my course at the moment: after week 9 many resources at Brookes will then be partially closed over Easter. If everything is set up by then, embroidering from home and working into the antechamber should be easy. Looking at the surfaces of planets through images taken by telescopes, however, I am reminded of a musing explored through my creative text in The Divine Stitch:
We cannot touch space, or feel it with our own forms; rather we must experience it through metal, through optics, through machinery, and through technology. We are thus contradictory in ourselves: we are both detached from our universe and a part of it.
The flexi-ply has arrived and the skeleton of the final structure is ready to be put together. I have cleared enough space in my studio to start the construction of the piece, but with a floor to clean and several sections of circle to carry up stairs, it is not going to be easy. My studio wall also needs stripping bare, which then leaves the issue of where to put everything. There will be two dislodged magpies and lots of smaller embroideries lacking a home. I have yet to decide how much of these will feature in the antechamber, but have a lot of research to somehow translate into this final presented format.
The laser cutter failed miserably on the brass, leaving neither imprint nor mark. Because of this I had to approach an engraver in Oxford, who happily told me that the fee for engraving a few words onto brass would be just under £200. I decided to cause myself much agitation and do it myself, spending £14 instead on a battery powered engraving tool (batteries not included). This could be disastrous, but I have warmed to the idea of something so against the grain. Brass plates are usually flawless things, and instead mine will be some unusual hybrid of organic type.
Tomorrow I will be pre-drilling the rest of the flexi-ply (5 sheets), desperately hoping I won’t mess it up. I also have all kinds of paint and wood primer, including sand paper and curtains plus a rail for one of the doors. This week the aim is to get the antechamber built so I can paint it with all this lovely new stuff from B&Q. In the meantime I have finished two more embroideries and finally discovered the benefit of a diary – my practice has never been so organised.
